


Click

by feverbeats



Series: Bulletproof [2]
Category: RocknRolla (2008)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-24
Updated: 2011-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-15 22:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverbeats/pseuds/feverbeats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnny's tendency to fling himself dramatically at Mickey's feet is the issue, or maybe the way he talks about his "uncle's" backhand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Click

Johnny’s been staying with Roman and Mickey for two weeks now, and Mickey’s been trying to kick him out for . . . well, most of it. Oh yeah, and there’s the thing where Roman and Mickey are living together, but that’s nobody business. It’s certainly not Johnny’s business, but that’s Johnny for you. Always breaking everyone’s rules.

It’s a little funny how Johnny wound up staying with them, actually. Funny in a horrible sense, but Mickey laughed, so whatever. Basically, after the story about Johnny blew up in the press, shit got bad. Roman spent three days barely sleeping because he was too busy running damage control and convincing people that really, it was _okay_ that Johnny used to be a chick.

Or whatever. Probably that’s not entirely cool to say, but Roman’s had a few more pressing things on his mind than being PC.

Not least of which is the fact that Johnny got kicked out of his apartment. Or his _flat_ , whatever they say here. You’d think being a fucking rockstar would exempt you from psychotic assholes treating you like shit, but apparently not. So Johnny showed up at the studio all tight-lipped and quiet for the first time since the whole thing hit the papers, and Roman was worried enough to invite him to crash at their place for a bit.

Two weeks later, Johnny is still gloating over the fact that Roman and Mickey live together. Fair’s fair, though. Roman’s willing to trade his biggest secret for Johnny’s. Somehow, Roman never thought it would be that. He figured Johnny’s deal could be a lot of things, from abuse (likely sexual) to bipolar to too much money as a kid, but he never expected something so . . . Whatever. He doesn’t know what.

Of course, there’s a lot going on with Johnny, and Roman’s other theories could still hold true. But this is still a really big deal and he’d like to talk to Johnny about it. For two weeks, he doesn’t. He just lets the guy chill, feeds him beer and mostly keeps him off drugs, postpones a few shows. Nothing too damaging. But Johnny’s eventually fucking irritating to the point where Roman would rather talk serious shit than listen to it anymore.

“So,” he says, leaning across his counter, “Want to talk about it?”

Johnny is lying full-length on Roman’s expensive couch, playing with an unlit cigarette and ignoring the TV. “It?” he echoes, injecting a hell of a lot of unnecessary venom into his voice.

Roman sighs and settles in for the long haul. Mickey, thankfully, is out for the day. “You know, man. The thing in the papers.”

Johnny’s face twists. “The thing. It. Stop fucking about and _say_ it. Let’s give it a go: transsexual.”

Roman sighs and opens the fridge for another beer, mostly because he doesn’t want to look at Johnny. “Okay. Cool. I wasn’t sure. I mean, I looked some shit up on the internet, and I thought maybe transgender was more . . .”

“Oh, fuck _off_ ,” Johnny snarls, lobbing the cigarette in Roman’s direction as he turns. It doesn’t make it very far. “I don’t want to fucking talk about it, all right? I didn’t want it to come up, but now it has, and yes, I’m going to use it to get a bit more media attention, but I don’t want to discuss it with you.”

He rolls off the couch and is out the door before Roman can say anything.

And after that things get unpleasant. Johnny’s in and out of the house at all hours of the day and night, slamming doors, smoking inside, bringing his junkie friends around. Roman would almost be prepared to put up with it, out of guilt if nothing else, but Mickey isn’t so kind.

They’re in bed together one night, Roman considering sex, Mickey apparently considering falling the fuck asleep, when the front door slams.

Mickey sits up. “ _Fuck_. All right, he’s done. I don’t care what he’s supposedly been through, I am _not_ gonna have him walking around here like he owns the place.”

“Hang on.” Roman sits up and puts his arms on Mickey’s waist, just in case he’s going to try to get up and yell at Johnny. “Look, I’m not saying I have much sympathy for him. He gets himself into shit. But he didn’t get himself into this one, and if he’s kind of upset that we’re handling it badly, it’s not his fault.”

Mickey sighs. “Fuck you. Since when are you the sensible one?”

Roman suspects that he’s always been the sensible one, but Mickey’s the one with the temper, so he doesn’t say so. “I’ll talk to him about getting his own place again.”

Mickey nods and fluffs the pillow aggressively. Awesome. Roman can deal with this his way.

When he gets to the living room, Johnny’s already smoking, his long legs flung over the back of the couch, his head dangling. His face, Roman can tell even in the dark, is streaked with tears.

“Whoa, Johnny,” Roman says, disturbed. “You, uh, okay, man?”

“Pete and I had a fight,” Johnny says around the cigarette. “Another fight. I think we broke up again.” He clears his throat and focuses on Roman. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll be back together in a few days. But right now, it’s fucking rotten. Especially because of what’s happened.”

Roman realizes Johnny’s drunk. His words are a little slurred, and besides, he’s being honest. “Yeah,” he says tentatively. “I’m sorry about that. Seriously. I don’t know how the papers found out about your past and all, but I want you to know we’re behind you.”

Johnny blinks hard, and Roman realizes he’s said the wrong thing. That’s the trouble with Johnny: you say something mean and he flies off the handle, you say something nice and he bites you. Yeah, yeah, literally.

“Sorry,” Roman tries. “I didn’t mean it.” This is so fucking dumb.

Johnny huffs out a laugh and rolls upright before heading for the door. “I’ll stay with Pete.”

“Cut it out,” Roman snaps.

Johnny pauses with his hand on the doorknob, and Roman can hear him suck in a breath. “Well. When you put it like that.” He turns like he’s on strings that are apparently connected right to Roman.

“Uh,” Roman says. “What did I do?”

Johnny shudders and sits right down on the floor in front of the door. “You asked me nicely to cut it out, and I did.”

Roman shakes his head. “No, I fucking yelled at you and you actually listened. Since when do you listen to anything?” But now he’s thinking about the answer.

Johnny leans his head back and swallows, and Roman can see his adam’s apple bob. He catches himself wondering how that works, exactly, but asking Johnny about the details of his gender reassignment isn’t exactly the issue here. Johnny’s tendency to fling himself dramatically at Mickey’s feet is the issue, or maybe the way he talks about his “uncle’s” backhand.

So, yeah. Roman got it already, but he’s rarely been on the receiving end of this particular issue of Johnny’s.

Johnny’s just watching him, waiting for him to make the next move.

Roman takes a deep breath. “So, you’re having a bad month, right? And you and Pete are broken up?”

Johnny looks at him with that freaky _open_ look, just straight-up hope with a side of lust. Roman hates it. “Yeah,” he says softly.

“Let me talk to Mickey. Get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Roman practically flees back to his room.

Mickey is, infuriatingly, awake. Figures the _one time_ Roman _doesn’t_ want to talk, Mickey’s not unconscious.

“Okay,” Mickey says, “So what happened?”

Roman mentally crosses his fingers. “Well, I said I was sorry being accidentally being a dick, he flipped out and tried to leave, I started to bitch him out, would you be at all into a threesome of some kind?”

Mickey laughs. “Jesus fucking Christ. You thought you’d, what, sneak that one by me?”

Roman grits his teeth. “I know you don’t trust me. And I don’t blame you; I know I’ve messed up a few times. But I let you have your thing with June, so . . . And I’m not saying I want to fuck him, I’m saying I want to try something.”

“And that something is a threesome?” He rolls his eyes. “ _Fine_. But don’t ruin my sleep with it again.”

Roman lies down next to him, but he doesn’t sleep. He isn’t sure he wants to risk fucking his relationship up. He’s worked _way_ too hard, even following Mickey here from America. But this idea is too awesome to pass up, and anyway, he just wants to try it. He isn’t sure exactly what he wants to try, because _threesome_ doesn’t exactly cover the way Johnny just snapped to attention when Roman yelled at him, but he’s going to find out.

*

Roman starts out nice and easy, not that he needs to. He gives Johnny small, unimportant orders, like _Wait to eat until I finish Mickey’s eggs_ and _Put that cigarette out_ and _Take your boots off the couch_. Now that they’ve worked out, at least tacitly, what they’re doing, Johnny follows the orders almost before Roman’s done giving them.

Mickey raises his eyebrows about it, but he lets Roman do whatever. He’s too busy shouting down the phone at their other rockers, anyway.

Two weeks of that, and Roman takes Mickey aside in the kitchen. “Hey, man, want to try something?”

Mickey narrows his eyes. “Probably fucking not, but ask away.”

Roman is used to psyching himself up for stuff with Mickey, so he barely pauses. “I’ve been winding Johnny up for two weeks, and I think he’s getting sick of it. I thought maybe you could fuck him or something.”

“Me.” It’s not even a question, just standard incredulous Mickey. “You’re the one who’s been playing your little BDSM game with him for weeks.”

Roman has the good grace to blush. “Yeah, I know, but this way you won’t freak out about me _cheating_ on you. It’ll probably just be a one-time thing. Come on.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Mickey snaps. “I can do a one-time thing. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it. But I want you to watch.”

Which, yeah, hot. “Oh,” Roman says. “Yeah, I can definitely do that.”

Johnny’s in the bedroom anyway, drumming his long fingers on the headboard to a tune in his head. Roman hopes to God this song is marketable, anyway. The content of some of them is a little . . . Who knows, maybe it’s an English thing. He’s having to adjust to the taste over here.

“Johnny,” Mickey says, sounding pissed off.

Johnny’s head snaps up. He’s grinning in that way that makes Roman feel a little unsafe. “What can I do for you, Mickey?”

“You can start by keeping your fucking mouth shut.”

Johnny’s mouth doesn’t snap shut the way it does when Roman gives him a direct order, his grin just widens. Roman can tell he’s looking for a fight, and Mickey’s definitely the one to give it to him. Whatever made Johnny this way, the two of them are an okay team to handle him.

“Now,” Mickey says, glancing at Roman, “We might want to have a safe word, right?”

Roman nearly chokes. “For fuck’s sake, man. You never struck me as the cautious type.” It’s not like they’re ever needed a safe word, but then again, they’ve never done anything too . . . intense.

“Fuck cautious,” Mickey returns, crossing his arms. “It’s a liability issue. It’s not like fucking one of our rockers isn’t already a legal gray area. We don’t need to add uncalled-for bruising for him to throw in our faces.”

Johnny laughs a little wildly. “Trust me, boys, you couldn’t do anything to me that would be uncalled-for.”

“That’s what you say now,” Roman mutters, making himself as comfortable as it’s possible to be in the only chair in the room.

Mickey kneels on the edge of the bed, watching Johnny sharply. “By the way,” he says.

Roman sees Johnny practically flinch. Johnny is a delicate machine, unpredictable in his reactions, and Roman doesn’t know if Mickey always respects that.

“Yes?” Johnny asks a little too loudly.

Mickey shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down at Johnny. “This is fucking awkward, okay? But I just want to make sure I don’t do anything you’re not cool with. I don’t know how this, you know, works with you.”

Johnny’s jaw tenses. “Hm,” he says after a second. “How considerate.”

Roman is torn between being grateful to Mickey for asking and worried that Johnny’s going to punch one of them.

“It’s not fucking considerate, I just don’t want to deal with it when you freak out,” Mickey mutters.

“I understand,” Johnny says acidly. “In that case, I suppose I’d rather you didn’t fuck me. Pete might feel you’re intruding on his territory.”

Which of course Johnny doesn’t give two shits about, but it’s a convenient excuse for not being comfortable with anyone but Pete doing it.

Mickey nods. “Know what? I’m not even going to take your clothes off.”

Johnny shudders, and Roman’s not sure if it’s because of the take-charge attitude or the unexpected kindness. “Charming,” Johnny says under his breath.

“Now,” Mickey says, “Stop talking before I smack you.” Roman doesn’t think he’s acting, exactly. This kind of thing just comes naturally to him after years of shouting at spoiled little rockers.

Johnny hooks his fingers in his belt loops and smiles insolently at Mickey, every inch of him broadcasting noise without talking.

Mickey moves to straddle Johnny, grabbing a handful of his hair. “Okay, safe word is Albany. And I don’t want to see you open your mouth for anything else.”

Roman snorts. Albany’s where Mickey’s from originally, although he tells everyone he’s from New York City.

Mickey, meanwhile, is practically manhandling Johnny. “C’mere,” he says, tugging Johnny halfway into a little position under him. “I want to see you kiss my belt buckle.”

Yeah, Roman can see why Mickey would agree to this, after years of dealing with Johnny’s bullshit. The reasons that Johnny agreed to it are probably pretty different.

Johnny’s slow to respond, so Mickey tugs his hair hard and snaps, “Did you hear me?”

Johnny’s lips curl, half smile, half sneer, as he leans forward. He purses his lips against the buckle before turning the kiss into something obscene, with tongue and teeth all over the metal.

“Jesus,” Mickey mutters. “I fucking hate showoffs.” And he shoves Johnny back down as hard as he can.

Johnny throws his head back against the pillow and drags a hand against the front of his jeans.

“Hey,” Mickey says, leaning forward so his lips brush Johnny’s ear and Roman has to hold his breath to hear. “Did I fucking say you could touch yourself?” He grabs Johnny’s wrist hard enough that Johnny gasps. “No, I fucking didn’t. I want you to cut it the fuck out and think about me, instead.” He straightens up, dragging Johnny’s hand up to press against the belt again. “Think about my fingers inside you. In your mouth, in your ass, wherever it gets you hot.”

Roman can hear Johnny’s breathing pick up almost exaggeratedly. The guy’s easy. And it’s no secret that what gets Roman hot is Mickey, so he’s feeling a little easy himself. He’s suddenly not sure how he feels about Mickey directing his stupid, familiar dirty talk at someone else. But hey, it’s not like it’s really a competition. Johnny’s more than either of them wants to deal with long-term.

“Does that get you going?” Mickey asks, squeezing Johnny’s wrist. “’Cause I can go all night with that. You like to think about me fucking you? Huh? ‘Course, I’m not even gonna touch you again if you don’t beg me for it.”

Mickey being _casual_ shouldn’t be so fucking hot, but _God_. Roman unzips his jeans and takes a deep breath to steady himself.

“Mickey,” Johnny says, and his voice sounds a little strained, “I would really appreciate it if you’d consider touching me.”

He grabs Johnny’s hair again. “I’m not gonna consider _anything_ until you ask nicely.”

Even while Roman’s jerking off, he’s definitely thinking about how this must be Mickey’s revenge for years of rockers demanding shit from him. That, weirdly, makes it hotter. Roman just has a huge thing for his boyfriend, okay?

“ _Please_ consider touching me.” Johnny smirks up at Mickey.

Mickey laughs and grabs Johnny’s hip. “Oh, yeah fucking right. I’m gonna play with you till you mean it. He squeezes Johnny’s hip and grabs his jaw with the other hand. “Hey.” He shoves his thumb in Johnny’s mouth, yanking his head back at an awkward angle.

Johnny lets out a little whine and bites down on Mickey’s thumb. He reaches for him, but Mickey snaps, “Hey. Hands on the bed,” and Johnny presses his palms flat to the bed and shuts his eyes.

Roman watches as Mickey runs his free hand over Johnny’s hips, stomach, chest. His other hand stays firm on Johnny’s jaw the whole time. All Roman can hear is the sound of his own breathing.

Finally, Mickey takes his thumb out of Johnny’s mouth, and Johnny gasps.

“Now,” Mickey says, “Want to talk about what you want?”

“ _God_ ,” Johnny says. It nearly sounds honest. “Please, please, just fucking touch me, you complete bastard.”

Mickey laughs and grabs the front of Johnny’s jeans roughly. “Better. Although I don’t want to hear you talking shit to me again. Just for that, all your clothes stay on.”

Johnny whimpers and grinds against Mickey’s hand, and fuck, Roman is close. They look great together. There’s an instant where Johnny’s eyes meet Mickey’s and Roman’s afraid Johnny’s going to tell Mickey to move his hand, but Mickey doesn’t even fucking blink, and they’re good.

Mickey yanks Johnny’s hair again, and Johnny’s hips snap up desperately. “Aah! Fuck!”

Mickey twists his wrist, rubbing the front of Johnny’s jeans faster. “That get you hard?”

Johnny’s face closes off almost completely, although his eyes are open. “Mickey—” He sounds choked. Then it’s as though something switches tracks in his mind, because he draws a taut breath and whispers, “Backhand me.” Roman’s never heard his voice sound like that. He sounds vicious and scared at the same time.

Mickey frowns, definitely not sure, and Roman’s even less sure, but Johnny’s close to coming and it can’t _hurt_ \--

Mickey hits him, harder than Roman would have, but probably not as hard as Johnny wanted. Roman closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see Johnny’s face as they’re both coming.

After a second, Mickey mutters, “I’ll just finish myself off, huh?”

“Story of your life,” Roman says breathlessly. “Gotta do all the work.” He’ll worry about taking care of Johnny in a sec, because that’s definitely going to be some work. Rockers need babysitting every second, and after some pretty heavy BDSM stuff is probably no exception. Johnny looks happy, though, and he’s being _quiet_ for once, so Roman lets himself relax for a second.


End file.
